“Everything old is new again,” as both the adage and the selection of T-shirts at Urban Outfitters demonstrate. But if the rumors that Urban sometimes supplements its own merchandise with vintage finds is true, one still has to wonder: where are those stores getting their clothes? And isn’t “vintage” just a euphemism for used?
First things first. There are three things that distinguish vintage clothing from what you’ll find at the average store or Salvation Army: style, style and being at least ten years old (though usually more). When it comes down to it, “vintage” essentially means “used & unique.” And, generally speaking, pieces are either of a very good label, or no label at all—there’s really no such thing as vintage Gap. But that tissue-thin camp T-shirt from when you were six? That’s more like it.
Owners of vintage stores are neither raiding our closets, nor (hopefully) stealing shirts from unsuspecting day campers. Instead, there are three main methods for vintage stores looking for goods: donations, auctions or an army of vintage minions. Each method gives the store a certain character, so if you’re wondering which one suits your style, you’re lucky that in the Square we’ve got all three.
At Planet Aid, clothes are shipped down in bulk from Canada, and employees pick through them on site to decide what stays and what goes. All of the clothes here are by donation, since Planet Aid is part of the non-profit Humana People to People, an aid organization that runs teaching, HIV/AIDS and sustainable development programs in Africa and Central America. What you’ll find here are quirky pieces mixed in with generally modern, basic items. This is a good place to go if you want clothes that are fairly straightforward and cheaper than new ones, particularly if, as manager Kristen L. Daley says, you “aren’t interested in paying more for something from the 1950s.”
The auction connection can be found at Oona’s, where owner Kathleen M. White has been in the business for 30 years. White works with the Maypole Association, and gets the majority of her merchandise from estate sales and auctions, where she’ll price and buy a houseful of clothing-—although according to White, “Sometimes they say, ‘Just take it.’” She then goes through the lot, selecting and dating each item—which means this is the place to look if you want a piece from a particular decade. Because of the competition, the prices at Oona’s are good—I got a gorgeous Audrey Hepburn-style dress in red crepe for $10. White also stocks new accessories, including legwarmers and fishnets, in order to follow current trends. But that doesn’t mean you’ll find anything generic here. “When everyone sells something, I don’t sell it,” White says.
Perhaps the least well known of the Square’s vintage offerings is ironically the best geared towards the college crowd. At Proletariat, owner Kerry Simon relies on more than a dozen hand-selected buyers all over the country to stock his store with just the right kind of nostalgia-chic clothing for the college-age hipster. His buyers are true aficionados, the kind who “would see a shirt and it wouldn’t fit them, and they’d buy it anyway so no one else would get it,” Simon says. Still, every piece in the store has been approved by Simon himself, who aims to keep the merchandise relevant to incoming freshmen. “I try to keep with the times, the childhood stuff,” which is why you can find Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles paraphernalia in his place. And of course, like most vintage lovers, Simon is “tired of seeing everyone wearing the same thing.” So he’s just started a limited edition line, where each month a new design will be produced in one 50-shirt run.
